Guest Commentary: Farewell to two lifesaving legends

Friday

May 15, 2009 at 2:00 AM

I've been out of the Coast Guard for six years. At nearly 60, I can surprise myself with earlier portions of my life when they are brought back into my focus. And this was a weekend of renewed focus. I had been a boatswain's mate in the Coast Guard Reserves for 17 years. Loved it. Proud of it. But I hadn't felt the passion of being part of this lifesaving service for a long time . . .

Nancy Viall Shoemaker

I've been out of the Coast Guard for six years. At nearly 60, I can surprise myself with earlier portions of my life when they are brought back into my focus. And this was a weekend of renewed focus. I had been a boatswain's mate in the Coast Guard Reserves for 17 years. Loved it. Proud of it. But I hadn't felt the passion of being part of this lifesaving service for a long time . . .

A Coast Guard Weekend to Remember The last of the 44-foot Motor Lifeboats in the United States Coast Guard was decommissioned on Friday, May 8. The 44301 was the first of its class: a lifeboat made to rescue life and property. It was always touted for its ability to self-right and self-bail. These terms mean that if this vessel, which was built for heavy seas and heavy weather, were to roll over, it would right itself back up - on its own and in 15 seconds. And the waters taken on during this process would automatically flow back out of the boat. All who sailed on her felt that we ran the ultimate no-frills boat, capable of anything. In 1997, the replacement of the 44' came on scene. The new Motor Lifeboat bragged 47 feet in length. It was much more comfortable for the crew and could cruise at 20 knots, instead of the snail's pace of 10 to 12 knots (on a good day) of the 44-footer. The 44s were gradually retired, put out of service, sold to private parties or other countries. We ran the 44402 and the 44403 during my eight years at Chatham. In recent years, the prototype 44301 had come back to Chatham Station. It had started its career there in 1963, went on to the Cape Cod Canal Station and eventually to the Coast Guard's National Motor Lifeboat School, at Cape Disappointment in Oregon. There it saw plenty of action at the mouth of the Columbia River, training the surfmen of the Coast Guard. May 8, 2009, was the end of its active duty days. It was escorted out across Chatham's Bar by a 110' cutter. Commandant Thad Allen, head of the U.S. Coast Guard, was there; old boat crews were there with the current crew of Station Chatham; all gathered to watch the 44301 motor off to its new home at the Coast Guard Museum in New London, Conn. A helicopter and jet flew by in close formation to salute the retiring legend. A great boat. A great history. A Day of Memories and Pride. Then Saturday, May 9, 2009. It would have been the 80th birthday of Bernard C. Webber, CWO (Ret.). He passed away on Jan. 24 of this year. The Cape's Coast Guard family gathered together yet again, this time to celebrate Webber's life. Bernie Webber started his career as a Boatswain's Mate at Chatham. He ran a different class of lifeboats, the 44-footer's predecessor, the 36-foot lifeboat, and in particular, the 36500. His legend began on Feb. 18, 1952 when the Fort Mercer and the Pendleton went aground in a fierce nor'easter that broke these two tankers in half off of Monomoy Island. Bernie was 23 years old and was the coxswain (captain) of his lifeboat with a crew of three: Richard P. Livesey, Irving Maske, and engineer Andy Fitzgerald. Their tale is a rescue story of great daring and courage . . . and luck (Bernie suggested the hand of God was on the tiller that night). I can't do the story justice here and I hope you will read his memoir of the event, Chatham - The Lifeboatmen and the more recently published The Pendleton Rescue (2nd edition) by Theresa Barbo with Captain W. Russell Webster. The crew of the 36500 went over the bar, immediately lost their windshield and compass in crashing waves, yet managed to rescue 32 men from the aft half of the Pendleton. My dear friend Dick Kelsey, a Chatham photographer and pilot, took pictures of the crew and the survivors that night. His famous photos were sent to newspapers around the country the next morning. This incredible event captured the admiration of our country. As someone said at Bernie's memorial, he was the Captain Sullenberger of his day. He guided his boat with 32 survivors (with the able young crew) to safety, miraculously finding his way back to Chatham Harbor. I had a chance to talk with the now only surviving member of the 36500 crew, its engineer Andrew Fitzgerald. He and his wife Gloria were so gracious. We talked of details of the rescue. He was only 20 years old. He had just gotten off Lightship duty and was the junior of four engineers at Chatham. His memories of that night are vivid to this day, including the one casualty of the Pendleton crew. He had to restart the engine with great difficulty two times. Two days after the event the same engine would not go in reverse; imagine the outcome if this trouble had happened during the rescue, maneuvering around the tonnage of the Pendleton! After 20 survivors were brought on board, there was talk among the crew of returning to port as the boat was becoming unstable with the extra weight and then, of course, returning for the remaining survivors. But the crew finally agreed that this might be their only chance to rescue all. Mr. Fitzgerald was surprised that the return trip to port was relatively easy, surfing back with following seas. There were definitely four heroes here, as Bernie Webber often said. These four young men never planned on being heroes. They forever asked for no special treatment. They remind me of a young man on the mess deck (dining room) of our Station (Chatham) one night who had just come in from a long case. He was contentedly eating his cold macaroni and cheese, when he looked across the table and quietly said, "I think I saved a life today." He smiled and kept on eating. What a great feeling. What a great service.